I have always felt the magical pull of New York City. If you’ve ever lived in or visited the city, then you know what I am talking about. Every time I cross the 59th Street Bridge into Manhattan, I feel a sense of pride. I immediately sit taller in my seat and roll down the window almost as if saying, “Hello, I am here!” When you are driving across the bridge the skyline is breath taking. But something from the city is missing. When the towers fell on September 11th, 2001, my heart ached. My New York was under attack.
I was only in second grade at the time, but that does not mean I do not remember that day any less than an older person might. We had just started school that morning and we were on the rug having story time. I remember being so excited to finally have a Pop-Tart in my lunch box. My mother never let me bring those things to school. Back then, if a child was dismissed then they were announced over the P.A. system. My teacher stopped telling her story because her phone constantly rang. Every minute, the system would turn on to announce another child that had to go home. Ultimately, my name was called. When I asked my dad why I had to leave, he said, “I think the country is under attack.”
When I got home, my mother was pacing. She explained that two planes had flown into the Twin Towers, another into the Pentagon, and one heroically crashed in a field. She was crying because my family could not contact my aunt, who was a Lieutenant Colonel at the Pentagon at the time. Later, we found out that although she was safe, she saw the plane crash into the Pentagon. Many of her coworkers perished.
That’s when I saw the TV footage. Over and over the clips played. I saw the smoke and the fire. I broke down and began to cry. That was my New York. The place I cherished the most. I saw the people running. I heard the screaming. I closed my eyes but I could not make it go away. The next thing I remember is my dad saying he volunteered to help. He is a correction officer so they were asking for everyone to help if they could. He was there for a week and to this day he can not talk about it. It is too hard for him.
Last year, he took me to Ground Zero to do a story for my school paper. I have to admit I was nervous. I did not know if I was capable of honoring my beloved city properly. As I crossed the bridge, the two remembrance beams of light beckoned me. Calm rained upon me. I know it might sound strange, but I could feel something in the air as I walked around Ground Zero. It was hope; the hope for a better tomorrow.
Men and women sacrificed themselves so that we could be safe. One of the most powerful things is seeing the fireman and police officers working together to save my city, our city. I would like to say thank you to all of the people that rebuilt my New York. This is not just my city this is the world’s city. We may have been bruised but we were never broken. As we drove home, Jay-Z and Alicia Key’s “Empire State of Mind” played on the radio. They were right: “New York will inspire you,” and with every passing 9/11 we are getting stronger.